


Uncharted

by Iben



Category: Warrior (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:37:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iben/pseuds/Iben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy actually likes Frank, but telling him, or anyone, about it is a very different matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncharted

Tommy took another swig from his beer bottle and looked out over the garden. It was autumn and the leaves on the trees were turning yellow, but it wasn't cold, there was just the slightest tinge of chill in the air. The last opportunity for a barbecue this season, that's what Tess had said. Tommy had heard her in the background when Brendan called him and asked him to come over. 

It didn't feel quite natural, not yet, maybe it never would, but Tommy said yes anyway. Adult Brendan, in his adult house, with his family and friends and normal life – it was still strange to see. But good. This was a good life, Tommy knew that. It was the kind of life he'd caught glimpses of as a kid sometimes, at a friend's house, and he'd envied them. And Brendan was sort of trying to share it with Tommy, or pull him into it or something; Tommy could see it and he tried his very best not to resent it or resist. 

He glanced around, careful not to let his gaze linger anywhere, or rather on anyone, but he still saw that dark, spiky hair, the width of the shoulders and narrowing of the hips. Saw it and stored it somewhere inside. He didn't keep a mental record of the occasions they'd met. He didn't actually know how many times that was now. He just remembered them, because that was the way his mind worked. He remembered. 

Part of it was that Frank was this legendary coach, despite being only, what – ten, fifteen years older than Tommy? Tommy didn't actually know his age. His methods were unconventional and while none of it was Tommy's cup of tea, you had to respect the man. The other part was that Tommy had this nagging suspicion, like an itch in the back of his mind that wouldn't leave him alone, that Frank was, well, like that. 

Tommy felt something twist inside, rising up his throat, and he took another swig from his beer to force it down again. He couldn't even think the word out loud in his mind? Gay. See, he wasn't that much of a coward. He was probably wrong, though. 

“You want another?” Brendan was close by, holding up his own, empty beer bottle.

“Sure.” Tommy had almost finished his too. 

Brendan's two girls were running around on the lawn. They said hi to Tommy and not much else when he came here. He didn't know what to say to them either, didn't know how to talk to little girls. Had they been boys it might have been easier, he'd been one himself once. 

“Everything alright?” Brendan said when he came back out again and handed Tommy a cold bottle. 

Tommy nodded. Brendan sat down next to him. There was a slight big brother routine going on here, Tommy could feel it. They drank their beer, not saying anything. 

“I don't know if you've noticed, but Carol, Tess' friend, have been eyeing you since you got here,” Brendan said then. 

Carol was the short-haired girl. Woman. 

“Just thought I'd let you know, in case you wanna, I don't know, talk to her,” Brendan said. “Unless you rather sit here and brood.”

Tommy wasn't fucking brooding! He shot Brendan an annoyed glare. Brendan was smiling, the jerk. 

He had no clue, though. Good, Tommy preferred to keep it that way. Did Brendan know about Frank? If there was anything to know. People talked about 'gaydar' as if that was an actual thing, but in Tommy's experience it was just a load of crap. He'd never been able to tell. He'd only ever gotten infatuated with straight guys and been miserable for it. He didn't know why he suspected Frank. Maybe it was the stupid haircut. 

“You've been to see Pops?” Brendan asked.

Tommy nodded. He had, last week. Just a short stop. He said hi, Dad made a cup of coffee and they talked a bit, about training mostly. Tommy trained on his own now. He wasn't fighting anymore, so he did it just to stay in shape, because he couldn't imagine not doing it. 

“He's alright,” he said, figuring maybe that was what Brendan wanted to know. 

Brendan nodded. Frank looked up from his cellphone just then, and met Tommy's gaze. Tommy's stomach did a back flip. Fuck. He'd been staring, hadn't he? He hadn't realized. He turned his head, took another swig from his beer. 

“Sober,” he said to Brendan, grappling for the conversation.

“That's good.”

Coming home to his own place later meant seeing his apartment in a different light. It was an alright place, it just looked like crap compared to Brendan's and Tess' house. Calling it a bachelor pad was probably the nicest way to describe it. He'd made a bit of an effort, though, he had curtains and he kept the kitchen neat. 

He watched a bit of TV before he went to bed. The room was dark, but the faint light from the streetlamp outside prevented it from being completely black. He grabbed his dick and gave it a few tugs, felt it swell under his fingers, a rush of blood to his groin, making his erection the foremost thing on his mind. 

It was a routine he'd had for years, jerking off before going to sleep, going back to when he'd shared a room with Brendan and had struggled to be really quiet and hide what he was doing under the cover. That turned out to be good practice for when he was in the corps later. Not that it remained a very well-kept secret, but it didn't matter because everybody did it. 

He moved his hand back and forth, felt that tightening feeling in his balls, and his palm and his fingers gripping his dick just the way he liked it, until he came over himself, the spunk warm on his hand and his stomach. He grabbed a paper tissue from the nightstand and wiped himself off, then he turned over onto his stomach. It was only after, now, that it sometimes came over him, a sadness of sorts. Loneliness, really. 

**

He'd never been to a gay bar. What would he do there? He didn't dance, didn't like shit music. He didn't have anything in common with the people he imagined would be there. 

He drove past one, though. He'd been to the gym, it was only a slight detour and driving at night could be relaxing. That he'd looked it up on the Internet so that he knew the address was kind of hard to explain away, but he chose not to think about that. 

There were people milling about on the sidewalk outside, having a smoke, talking. Tommy didn't know anything about this world. He'd gotten that much from TV, watching every single thing he could with gay people in it. He'd gone to see Brokeback Mountain at a theater, drove several towns over so that no one would know him and bought two tickets even though he was by himself. That was something else. He regretted it afterwards, though. He'd gotten into his car and he made it out of town, but then he had to pull over and he cried like a baby. Fuck, that had hurt and it went on hurting a long time. 

He didn't drive slowly like a creep and before he knew it he had driven past the club and it was restaurants and closed stores again. It made him feel a strange sort of disappointment, and at the same time relief. He couldn't picture himself going to a place like that. He didn't want to, except some small part of him did. Not going to a bar itself, but meeting someone, someone who was like him, someone who could love him. Being loved, imagine that. It made his chest clench, as if his lungs were being squeezed. 

**

Colt's gym went bankrupt. Tommy didn't know the details and he didn't need to, but it was a damn shame. At first there was speculation that someone else would take over, keep it open, maybe change the name, but it had been Fitzy's gym before it was Colt's so that was alright. But then word got out that it was going to be a hair salon, or some other thing like that. So Tommy had to find another place to work out, and it was Brendan's suggestion that he'd come over to Frank's gym. 

“You could at least give it a try,” Brendan said. “See if you like it.”

Tommy made a hesitant face. 

“I don't know. That fucking Beethoven shit?” he said. 

Brendan laughed. 

“You get used to it,” he said. 

A gym was a gym, and Tommy had always felt at home at them. He guessed he had his old man to thank for that. He didn't socialize, but he was there for a purpose, and he knew what he was doing. He figured maybe it would be a good thing if he and Brendan could work out together now and then. It was something they could do that didn't involve talking. 

He went by himself, Brendan had a parent-teacher conference or something. He signed up, paid for a membership. Didn't see Frank. Not that time. 

He did the next time. Brendan was there then, too. Frank was wearing a tight, sleeveless shirt. He had a tattoo on each shoulder. Tommy had to look away, pretend to be uninterested in the conversation or interested in the sparring match that was going on in the ring. He knew how he came off just then, or had an inkling at least. Brendan's surly little brother. This place was too bright and shiny, he knew that and yet he had joined. 

He worked out a lot, didn't have that many other interests, which meant he saw Frank a lot. Which meant he got a lot of material for his nightly jerk off sessions. He didn't want to do that, because he might start getting erections in the gym, but then he couldn't help himself and did it anyway. 

Tommy was finding it increasingly difficult to look Frank in the eye, or look at him at all, and especially speaking to him, which maybe he hadn't done so much before either, but now it felt close to impossible. It was a stupid, fucking crush. And worst of all, Brendan noticed. 

“You really dislike Frank, huh?” he said one day, when they'd both been working out and were heading back to their cars. 

The light from the streetlamps was yellow and the air smelled of rain. Tommy didn't know what to say. A sense of panic went through him, because he hadn't known it was noticeable, and if Brendan had noticed maybe someone else had too. Brendan had grossly misinterpreted, though. And at the same time he hadn't. Tommy was envious of Frank, of how he and Brendan were such good friends, Frank being everything Tommy couldn't. And he despised Frank's tight clothes and easy-going manners, his hippieish ideas that somehow didn't clash with him also being a tough guy. 

He could feel Brendan's gaze on him. Thought about what to say. 

“I don't dislike him,” he said, trying to come off as flippant about the whole thing. 

“It's kind of obvious that you do.” 

There was an edge to the tone of Brendan's voice. Annoyance, maybe. It sure rubbed Tommy the wrong way.

“Yeah, well, since you like him so much, why don't you ask him to be your brother instead? And you can sit and listen to fucking Beethoven together.” He looked at Brendan, raised his eyebrows a little. 

Brendan had a look of disbelief on his face. 

“I don't even know what to say to that,” he said. “That's just...” He shook his head.

Tommy felt a surge of rage, rushing up inside and filling his head. Not because of Brendan's words, but because what the fuck did he know? He had his pretty wife and his family, what did he know about being wrong? About being so lonely you thought you'd die? 

“Are you jealous?” Brendan said, sounding incredulous. 

Tommy looked at him as if he was an idiot. Brendan looked back at him. 

“There's no reason to,” Brendan said. 

This whole conversation was fucked up. Unnecessary. And Tommy didn't want to have it. He turned around and headed towards his car.

“I'm trying to understand!” Brendan called after him.

The guy had been married for some years, trained by his wife, that much was obvious. 

Tommy calmed down in the car on his way home. Brendan had misunderstood and Tommy was glad that he had. It was better than being forced to confess that not only was he gay, he also fantasized about fucking Brendan's best friend. Tommy couldn't tell him that. 

Maybe if he and Brendan hadn't had fourteen years of separation and all that shit in their past. But no, Tommy couldn't imagined he would have told him anyway. He hadn't told him when they were in their early teens that he didn't actually think that Olivia Trenton's well-developed breasts were the most interesting thing at school. He pretended to, because everyone else did, but in truth he thought that Eric in his English class was the cutest he'd ever seen. And he didn't tell Brendan about how he had been petrified of getting a hard-on when he was wrestling and sometimes made sure the other guy got a chance to do something painful, just so that he'd stop thinking about how he could feel the other boy's body against his. 

Had Mom known? Tommy had heard about parents who said they just knew, but he hoped she hadn't. She had been religious and even though homosexuality wasn't anything they ever discussed he wasn't sure how she would have reacted. He didn't want her to know that about him. He didn't want to disappoint her. He had tried his best to be a good son, but in the end it didn't help. If there was a heaven that's where she was now, and if so maybe she knew everything. If that were the case, that made her the only one.

**

Tommy thought about finding another gym. There was a kind of appeal in depriving himself of even seeing Frank. And he really should have, because this whole thing was getting out of hand. He got butterflies in his stomach whenever he accidentally met Frank's gaze, which he tried to avoid, and it made him almost nauseous. 

Brendan called and asked him to come over for dinner.

“Can't, I'm busy,” Tommy said. 

He didn't even know if there would be other people there, or if it was just him, but he didn't want to risk it. It was winter, they'd be indoors and he couldn't handle sitting at a dinner table pretending to be interested in stupid fucking small talk, especially not if Frank was there too. 

“Busy with what?” Brendan asked.

“Working overtime,” Tommy lied. 

He worked construction, Brendan was a teacher, Brendan had no way of knowing there weren't any overtime shifts right now. 

Tommy went to the gym that evening instead. He was surprised to find it deserted. The lights were on and the door was unlocked, but no one was there. It was weird and he figured he'd go home again. Maybe he should try to contact someone, (not Frank), because it seemed they had forgotten to lock up. 

Frank showed up in the doorway to his office just then. 

“Thought I heard someone,” he said. 

He was wearing jeans, not work out clothes. Tommy had been so certain he was going to be at Brendan's that for a moment it seemed utterly strange that he was here.

“You closed?” Tommy said.

“Yeah. The electricity has been off most of the day, had some rewiring done.”

Tommy nodded a little. His stomach was doing that butterfly thing. 

“You can do a work-out session if you want, though,” Frank said. “I'm catching up on some paper work, so I'm here anyway.”

He was looking at Tommy and Tommy could feel it, the weight of his gaze somehow palpable. He had brown eyes. Brown eyes were really nice, in Tommy's opinion. 

“Alright. Thanks,” Tommy said, although there was this voice in the back of his mind that was telling him he was an idiot. He shouldn't be here. He should have switched to another gym already. 

He did a session, alone in the gym, which was a bit weird but didn't bother him. Frank's presence did, though. He felt constantly aware of him, that rectangle of light, the door to his office, seemed to call to him, even though he couldn't actually see Frank from here. 

He hit the showers then got dressed. He stuffed his sweaty work-out clothes in his bag. He might need to get some laundry done tomorrow. 

On his way out again he stopped by the office. He figured he should say thanks for being allowed to come in, even though the gym was closed. Frank was crouching by the wall, plugging in the electrical cord to the laptop that was on the desk. He turned his head when Tommy showed up in the doorway. 

“You done?” Frank asked and rose to his feet.

Tommy nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Frank made a dismissive face. “I was here anyway.”

Tommy's mind went stupidly blank when Frank was looking at him. He didn't know what to say or do now. Say 'bye' and leave? Yeah, that was probably it. 

“Clears your mind, doesn't it?” Frank said. “Working out, I mean.”

Tommy nodded a little. “Better when you don't play that fucking music,” he said.

Frank smiled and Tommy felt a surge of something in his belly, going all the way down to his groin. Frank was a really handsome guy. Smiling somehow made him look even sexier. That great body of his was impossible not to notice, even fully clothed. Tommy wondered what his ass looked like, what his dick looked like. He'd never seen him in the dressing room, thank God. 

He wanted to smile back, but his face didn't cooperate. He had to get out of there, but Frank was looking at him and he felt frozen to the spot. It was the weirdest thing. His blood was pumping faster than when he'd been working out, moments ago, and it felt as if his mind was both empty and expanding at the same time. Frank knew. The thought popped up in his head, loud and clear. Frank was looking at him, and he knew. 

He quickly pushed that away. Frank couldn't know. But he was still looking at Tommy and now he wasn't meeting his gaze, he was staring at his mouth. Tommy felt a rush of something, panic or arousal, or both. 

Frank was gay? For real? 

Frank met his gaze again. Tommy didn't move. The air felt thick. Frank took the first step, and after that it was easier. It was just a few steps in the first place, the office wasn't very big. Tommy felt as if he had jumped off a cliff, though, then Frank's hand was on his neck and he was kissing him. 

Tommy had never kissed a guy before. Frank's mouth, his breath, the light scrape of his stubble. Tommy's mind was spinning. He'd kissed girls, but this felt a thousand times better. He dropped his bag to the floor so that he could put both arms around Frank. 

Tommy felt warm all over, not to mention the raging hard-on he had. 

“You know how much I've thought about this?” Frank said, his face still close. “Those lips of yours...”

Tommy didn't know what to reply. He'd thought about this too, but it was just so unbelievable that Frank had. He kissed him again, instead. 

They were holding each other, kissing, and pressing close enough that Tommy could feel that Frank was hard too. He rubbed his bulge against Tommy's and that felt better than it should have, through two layers of denim and everything. He felt Frank's hands on his ass. 

They were getting into unknown territory for Tommy. He was a grown man, but he felt like a silly little boy then. He grabbed Frank's ass, though, because that felt like the natural thing to do, and it felt great. They were moving their hips. 

Frank smiled. “Gonna come in our pants?” he said. 

Tommy wouldn't mind. But he wasn't sure what Frank wanted, if he wanted to stop, or if he wanted to move on to something else. He wasn't pulling away though, and he was breathing a little faster than normal. They were kissing and then Frank tilted his head to the side, kissed Tommy's jaw, then his neck. Tommy felt his tongue, warm and slick against his throat, and that did things to him, for sure. 

He had to do something, get ahead of this. His inexperience felt like a blemish that he wanted to hide. He moved his hands to the front of Frank's pants and Frank met his gaze as he started to unbutton them. If he didn't want to, he would have stopped him, but he didn't. 

Tommy pulled them down, just a little bit, enough so that he could wrap his hand around Frank's erection and start jerking him off. 

“Oh God..,” Frank breathed. 

This was the one thing Tommy had done. But never before with a man who was gay. There were incidents, that you never talked about, when you were stuck in places where you didn't see any women for months and months. You did someone a favor and you got one in return. That was the sad truth about Tommy's experience of sex with men. He'd jerked a few guys off and had their hands on his dick, but none of those guys would have come anywhere near him had they known he was gay. 

Frank still had his arms around Tommy, one of his hands at the back of his neck, the other squeezing his shoulder. Tommy was looking at him, because he couldn't not look at him. His dick was hard and warm beneath Tommy's fingers. The pleasure was visible on his face and Tommy felt pleased knowing it was he who did that to him. 

After a while he came, with a grimace and a harsh breath, and Tommy felt his come on his hand, hot and wet, and secretly liked it. Frank kissed him and Tommy kissed him back. He was still holding his dick and didn't know if he should let go or not, but he let go then, because it felt stupid to go on holding it like that. 

“Wait,” Frank said. He moved over to the desk and he fished some paper tissues out of a drawer. He handed one to Tommy so that he could wipe off his hand, then smiled a little. “Um... I don't usually do this here, these are for, you know, runny noses and stuff.”

“Mm.”

Frank balled up his tissue and tossed it into the waste basket when he'd buttoned his pants. He put his hand on the crotch of Tommy's pants, which were more than a little tight. 

“You want me to deal with that?” he asked, meeting Tommy's gaze. 

Tommy nodded a little. Yes, he did.

He'd thought Frank was going to do the same thing he had done, but when he had gotten Tommy's pants unbuttoned, and given him a sort of appreciative glance and half a smile, which felt pretty good, he got down on his knees.

Holy fuck. 

Tommy had his back against the wall and he leaned his head back, and when he felt Frank's tongue against the underside of his erection he closed his eyes. He was going to come in seconds. Frank's tongue was slick and smooth, soft and firm at the same time, against the head of his dick. And then he took him in his mouth. That felt fantastic. So warm. Tommy didn't dare look down, because seeing who it was that did this to him would surely make him come, and he didn't want to, not that quickly, it would be embarrassing.

But it felt amazing and he knew, he knew it wasn't some girl, and eventually he did glance down, because he couldn't resist. Frank wasn't looking up and Tommy could watch for a short moment. He was getting a blow job from a man, from Frank who was all kinds of hot. It was mind blowing. He was going to come, he could feel it, a tightening in his balls, and he tapped Frank on the shoulder to let him know. But he didn't move away and Tommy was too fucking close, he couldn't hold back, and came in his mouth. 

His orgasm had him panting for a few seconds. Wow. 

Shit. Was that on purpose, or was Tommy too late to warn him? The air in the room felt cool against his dick when Frank let go of him. Tommy tucked himself back in his pants while Frank got up on his feet. Had he swallowed? He hadn't bent over the waste basket and spit, at any rate. 

“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled. 

Frank shook his head. “No, I got the message,” he said. “I don't mind.”

Maybe guys weren't as squeamish about that as girls, or rather the few girls Tommy had gotten his dick sucked by. 

They looked at each other and Tommy felt a bit embarrassed. He felt overwhelmed and didn't know what to say or do now. Frank smiled a little and he smiled back. 

Frank laughed a little then and pulled a hand through his hair at the back of his head. Shit, he was cute. 

“Um... This is kind of the wrong way around, I guess, but you wanna go grab a coffee or something, some time?”

Tommy almost couldn't comprehend what he was saying. Was he asking him out on a date? Was this really happening, any of it? 

Tommy nodded though, that feeling of jumping off a cliff running through him again, but he'd regret it like hell if he didn't.

“Yeah?” Frank said, smiling at him, an almost sheepish look on his face. 

Tommy had to smile back. “Yeah,” he said.


End file.
